


Reflections of a Heartless Robot

by Panadopolis



Category: Mother 3
Genre: Character Study, Cybernetics, Cyborgs, Gen, Mother 3 Spoilers, Robot Feels, cyborg/robot character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21699685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panadopolis/pseuds/Panadopolis
Summary: A character study of Masked Man as he waits by the final Needle, faces down his rival, and encounters an unknown voice intruding upon his thoughts.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Reflections of a Heartless Robot

_ “Go away, can’t you see I’m busy? Oh, it’s you, Commander. Fine, what do you want?… Yes, I know about the Needles, I’ve been in this army longer than you have, brat… You’re wondering why Master Porky is ordering you to pull the Needles? Such things do not concern you… Fine, I suppose I’ll tell you, if it’ll make you go away. _

_ “As you already know, there are seven Needles planted on this island, guarded by my… _ comrades. _ It’s said whoever pulls the Needles will pass their heart to the Dark Dragon and recreate the world. A person with a pure heart will create a utopia, a person with a dark heart will sow destruction… And so, with his infinite wisdom, Master Porky decided to see what would happen if a heartless monster pulled the Needles… Nwehehehehe!” _

One hundred ninety-two hours fifty-seven minutes and thirty-five seconds had elapsed since the incident and I had yet to diagnose the cause of my aberration. I existed only to serve the great Master Porky. It was not in my programming to question Master Porky’s orders, nor his motives. And yet it had occurred. I had made such an an inquiry of Master Fassad. An action without a cause.

It was likely a fault arising from my biological components. They were a necessary component of my being, the source of the PSI that pleased Master Porky. They were also the source of unwanted sensations that expended valuable resources from my operating system. Perhaps this aberration was a symptom of "emotion", forbidden by orders of the great Master Porky. I made a record in my memory banks to address this concern during my next maintenance appointment.

I returned to the matter at hand by reviewing the objectives of my mission. Locate the seventh Needle. Kill the blond-haired boy and his companions. Await the arrival of Master Porky. Receive further instructions.

The first objective was fulfilled. I stood before the Needle. My sensory organs detected no other presences in the area. I would have to wait. I kneeled. It was the same stance I adopted when in the presence of the great Master Porky. I dismissed the irrelevant fact.

I waited. Unwanted thoughts and images came. Some were scenes from the past forty-eight hours, the “memories” generated by my biological components. Some were flashes of scenes I did not recognize. All were irrelevant. They had increased in frequency since I had encountered the blond-haired boy. That fact was also irrelevant. Anything that did not contribute to fulfilling Master Porky’s orders was irrelevant.

I focused my attention on the object before me. It was the first time I had truly brought my attention to the Needles. They were mere objectives to collect for Master Porky.

The object vibrated at a frequency of 80 Hz, accounting for the humming sound picked up by my auditory channels. I analyzed the patterns of light and dark along the Needle’s surface area. Calculations whirred through my central processing system. The results were irrelevant, but the task occupied my mental processes, eliminating space for unwanted thoughts. One by one they dispersed, leaving the familiar emptiness. A clear mind, ready for whatever tasks Master Porky assigned it.

I waited, and this time the mind remained silent. Two hours nine minutes and fifty-five seconds later I heard footsteps. Three distinct treads, and the soft patter of a quadruped animal.

I slowly rose to my feet. I was in no hurry. I could not complete my mission until the arrival of Master Porky.

I turned around. There were four figures standing in front of me, the same four figures from Chipichupyoi Temple. My retina display uploaded combat data from my memory banks. I dismissed it. I would not need it.

I met the blond boy’s gaze. Sensations arose in my biological components. Tightness of the stomach, tensing of muscles. Unwanted memories returned. I had lost before. It was the first time I had failed to fulfill an order from Master Porky.

It would not happen again.

I raised my sword. At my command a bolt of lightning knocked the boy’s companions to the ground. It was not strong enough to kill, but it would incapacitate them. I would dispose of them later.

The lightning surrounded the boy without causing visible harm. It had been an unanticipated outcome from our previous battle. Now I exploited the boy’s apparent immunity to fulfill my objectives.

Five seconds later the strike returned, deflected from the boy. I braced my body. I felt pain course through my biological components, but chose to ignore it. The strike was stronger than anticipated. I felt my knees sink to the ground.

I held my gaze on my adversary. His eyes were wide, his body was trembling. My processing unit classified it as a fear response. Creates accelerated heart rate and blood flow, primes the target to attack or escape. The power of emotional states. But I had no need for such emotion. I was designed for efficiency, to perform tasks with the least expenditure of resources. Emotions would only interfere with my mental processes and expend valuable resources from my operating system.

I stared at the boy, this target for execution. Master Porky had requested that his death be “slow and painful”. If it had been an order, I would have been compelled to obey. However, I deemed that this request would remain unfulfilled. The boy was a mere obstacle for me, to be disposed of with quick, efficient combat skills. I had the capacity for neither mercy nor sadism.

The boy was glancing between his companions. From my combat archives I knew the boy had remarkable healing powers. He was clearly wondering how to heal his companions.

I summoned sparks from my sword. It was a signal to the boy. I would strike his companions down as many times as necessary. There would be no interference during our battle. This fight was between the two of us, as Master Porky intended.

The boy trembled. He held out a rod as if to attack, but made no motion to swing. Some emotion must be paralyzing him, leaving him distracted and vulnerable. An easy target.

I fired three shots from my cannon into the boy’s chest. The boy cried out in pain, wavering on his feet.

I ran up to the boy, aiming to destabilize him before he could utilize his PSI. I swung my sword, striking the boy in the ribs. One stroke, then two. On the third blow the boy fell to the ground.

The boy was emitting a series of vocalizations. At first I thought these sounds were the involuntary cries of a creature in pain, but on further analysis I deduced that the boy was composing meaningful speech sounds. I dismissed it from my mind. I was not ordered to listen to what my enemies said. Some background process of the mind picked up words. The most frequent was “Claus”. That word did not belong in my vocabulary. I did not need to know its meaning. It was irrelevant.

The boy was at my feet, trembling. He made no attempt to defend himself, nor to attack. Some small, forbidden part of me felt something like disappointment. From my combat records I knew that the boy was a capable fighter, with potent PSI and remarkable healing techniques. A foe worthy of Master Porky. A true test of my abilities.

My feelings, such as they were, did not matter. Master Porky had ordered the execution of this boy, and I would complete it.

I aimed my cannon. A single shot would be fatal from this range. Master Porky would have ordered me to use PK Love. He said it was “flashy”, a quality I could not define yet evidently held in very high regard by Master Porky. I found it a waste of resources for a single foe.

The cannon hummed, building up energy. I had no need to know of its inner workings. Such knowledge was unnecessary. It was merely a tool I used to serve Master Porky, just as I myself served as a tool for fulfilling his orders.

Suddenly I detected a change in the environment. My perceptual field had darkened. I tried to diagnose the cause. The visor on my helmet was designed to filter light to ensure optimal perceptual conditions, but it was illogical to decrease light intake in my current dim surroundings. 

My body became unresponsive to my commands to move. It was not a true paralysis, it was… I did not know what it was. My body was in one position, and would not accept any deviations. I wondered if this was a mechanical failure. Just as my biological components had their unwanted sensations, so did my mechanical components have breakdowns and malfunctions. But it was impossible. My retina display informed me that my mechanical systems were in working order. No anomalies had been detected.

All my sensory organs were forced upon the boy in front of me. There were tears on the boy’s face. It was a detail I was forced to acknowledge. I did not understand the point of crying. Tear ducts were designed to produce fluid to clear debris from the eye. But people cried at seemingly any event. Another useless expenditure from emotion.

The boy was emitting the unknown vocalization again. “Claus”. I knew that creatures made unusual and involuntary sound combinations when placed under physical and mental duress. Perhaps “Claus” was one such sound. Or was the boy trying to communicate? It was pointless. I was forbidden to communicate unless giving orders to my subordinates or receiving them from Master Porky.

Suddenly I sensed a new voice. I could not detect it from my auditory channels. It was as if the voice had transcended my sensory organs and was broadcast directly to my processing unit. I listened to it. I could not do anything else at the moment.

The voice was a high pitch, yet fell below that of someone who had not yet reached maturation. From these qualities I deduced that the speaker was an adult woman. I ran the speech sample against my memory banks. I did not find a match with any of the voices I had heard during my three years of service to Master Porky.

I analyzed the speech sounds. _ “Claus. You’re not Porky’s robot! You’re our son!” _ It was puzzling. The syntax was correct. The words matched my vocabulary, apart from the unknown vocalization “Claus”. Yet the statement was clearly false, an aberration. I was Master Porky’s loyal robot. I did not understand why this voice was uttering these lies, forcing my body to a standstill.

The darkness gradually lifted. Sensation returned to my body. Immediately I fired my cannon. I would end this before any more senseless interruptions.

The boy cried out and scrambled away.

Impossible. He should be dead.

There were thirty-three milliseconds between when my shot fired and when it should have connected with the boy’s chest. It was physiologically impossible for a biological creature to react in that time frame. I deduced that I must have missed. But this was also impossible. I was a mechanical chimera, a meld of machine and man. Every move was planned with precision. Machines did not make mistakes.

It did not matter. If that shot had missed, I would make another, and another, until the boy was dead. 


End file.
